Nehemiah Mission

Yesterday I returned from a weekend missions trip in Cleveland at the Nehemiah Mission. My Lifegroup spent almost two days at the Mission doing service projects and interacting with the community. The time was really meaningful to us and I hope to the community we served as well. Cleveland is the poorest city in the United States, the Pastor of the Mission told us that “that’s one of the few things we beat Detroit in–we’re poorer.” In most cities there are rundown areas surrounded by suburbs or more well to do neighborhoods, but in Cleveland the slums go on for miles and miles. The whole city is old and dirty, like one giant moldy puddle sitting on Lake Erie.

The Nehemiah Mission works closely with other area churches and organizations to build up the neighborhood; they sponsor all kinds of work projects with groups like Habitat for Humanity. On our trip we helped with a number of odd jobs around the Mission, such as fixing the plumbing in the girls bathroom, stripping loose moldy plaster of the Church’s ceiling, building a shelf for basketballs and sporting equipment and a few other things. You can see additional photos from our time here.

Going into the inner city is a real wake-up call to me; the material clutter and trash are discouraging, but it is the pervasive vacant looks in human faces that are really what is sad. People look dazed, like they’ve suffocated their souls in order to escape from existential pain. I kept thinking how “living life to the fullest” must mean something different to people far less privileged than your average middle class person, than me. I have all kinds of demands and requirements about what a Church ought to provide, what a spiritual life must look like; I spend hours mulling over fine theological points–and these people just hope they have enough food tomorrow, hope that someone loves them and that God knows they’re alive. I think I understand why Nehemiah kept asking God not to forget him, because when the world seems to have passed you by, and material salvation isn’t distracting because it’s impossibly far away, the only thing left is the only thing that matters and if God himself forgets you you really are nothing. Oh, blessed are the poor indeed, for they can see better than anyone that Christ’s kingdom is not of this world.

Poor naked wretches, wheresoer’er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your loop’d and window’d raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these?
How to keep. Back beauty, keep it, beauty, beauty,
Beauty. from vanishing away? (from King Lear)

And yet this is where the Gospel starts, is it not? “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” This is the first part of the cycle, for Buechner is right when he says that before Comedy must come Tragedy, and in the end, in the fullness of time comes the incarnation of the majestic Fairy Tale itself–made physically real. The walls will be built again, just as in Nehemiah’s time. God will give his people rest, and when they see his face there will be much rejoicing.

For now, at least, much work remains–the walls are all in shambles. The walls in Cleveland are in shambles, and often the walls in my own heart are in shambles too, but together we can work towards propping them up again.